


Louder Than Thunder

by IrisofParadise



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-30 04:21:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6408526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrisofParadise/pseuds/IrisofParadise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sure, Anatoly and Vladimir are close as adults. But the chances of them being very close as children I am willing to bet are slim to none.</p>
<p>Really I just wanted an excuse to write Vladimir and Anatoly as children.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Louder Than Thunder

**Author's Note:**

> I have a younger brother that is eight years younger than me and yeah we're close. Ish. Now. But as kids? Yikes hell no. He was always in my shit. Always. And sharing a room with a sibling, especially a younger one, is the literal worst. So of course I'm sure Anatoly hated it for a while. You cannot convince me other wise. Like don't get me wrong, I bet he adored Vladimir. But there's only so much of your sibling being a brat that you can take before you want to put them up for sale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I have a lot of headcanons and meta for the brothers and after talking with my bestie, she said I should turn them into a fic. So, I'm re doing this one.
> 
> A few things:  
> \- I personally headcanon that Vladimir and Anatoly weren't the closest growing up based on the fact that most siblings, especially when there's this large an age gap, don't get along that well.  
> \- I also wanted to write them having a fairly happy childhood.  
> \- Slight trigger warning, their mother does have a miscarriage, a still born, and one baby dies from SIDs.   
> \- I headcanon Anatoly as bi and he had a huuuge crush on Bucky but doesn't really yet realize that he likes guys and chicks.  
> \- I chose the name Ekaterina for Mama Ranskahova because it's one of my fave names and Ivan for their dad for other reasons that have to do with my garbage ship which will not be in this at all.
> 
> That's all I can think about at the moment. This will have three chapters since I actually didn't think it'd get this long so oops and yikes.
> 
> Enjoy!

The young woman grinned as she watched her parents fret over everything from the way she was sitting to her not covering up to the way she had the baby’s room set up. She knew they meant nothing by it, that the fretting was all over false annoyances, and that it was truly just everyone excited and anxious for the baby’s arrival. 

Ekaterina wrapped her arms around her belly and grinned down at the large bump. She and her husband, a dark haired man with warm hazel eyes, her precious and so loving Vanushka had been so excited when just a handful of months after the wedding she became pregnant. Looking at him, she hoped that their unborn child would look just like him. Tall with his dark hair and kind eyes. Much unlike her much shorter stature with her wavy blonde hair and blue eyes. 

As Ivan let out a laugh at his wife’s parent’s fretting she hoped the baby would also have his laugh. She let out a happy sigh as she imagined it. Her, Ivan, and their little one that she just  _ knew _ would be a little boy. She had a name picked out already for her precious son and wrapped her arms around her belly in excitement, so ready to meet him. 

She knew that it was only a few more days before he would be there and could just barely contain her excitement. She figured that the only reason she couldn’t feel the baby moving anymore was because he was just sleeping; “He’s worn himself out from kicking his mama all the time!” She had said jokingly to her mama when she had looked worried. 

It had earned a laugh from everyone. 

* * *

Three days later and she is crying as she holds the cold body of her baby in her arms, praying for whatever God is out there to please return him. To please return to her her little Vasily Ivanovich.

 

But her prayers remained unanswered and she cried and cried and her husband held her tightly and cried silently with her, promising it was not her fault and that he still loved her more than the very air he breathed and she cried even more.

* * *

 

It’s another two years and she is a young woman just twenty-five and looking ready to pop at any moment. Throughout her whole pregnancy she had worried that her unborn child, one that she hoped would be a little girl, would meet the same fate as their elder brother before them had.

It was a relief when the baby was born and she cried with a mix of emotions; joy, relief, excitement. 

A glance up and she saw her husband also had tears of happiness falling down his face and she let out a small giggle. The baby let out a small noise, arm flailing out. She cooed at him and stroked his cheek gently, grinning as he reached and gripped her finger tightly in his chubby little hand and turned to almost snuggle closer to her. 

“He’s perfect,” Ivan breathed out, watching his newborn son and wife. She gave him a pleased grin, cooing a soft lullaby to the baby. “What do you want to name him?”

Ekaterina looked at him in surprise. “Vanyusha, dorogoi, I named Va-” she broke off with a small noise, still in too much pain over the loss of their first child before continuing, shaking her head, “No, he is yours to name.”

Ivan slowly reached over to hold the baby, and said softly, “No, Katyushka, milii moi. Whatever you wish to name him, we shall. What do you like?”

The woman frowned slightly and thought for a few long moments as she raced over a million names in her mind. Alexei? Sergei? Vladislav? No, none were good enough.

At her distressed frown Ivan took her hand in his and placed a light kiss on the top of it. “There is no rush. Whatever you like.”

She gave him a small smile, still running over names in her mind as she watched her husband hold their newborn son. Already the baby looked much like his father and it did nothing but please Ekaterina greatly. He had thick brown hair, his father’s eyes, her nose shape though she noted. She smiled contently as her husband cooed at their little bundle of sunshine and really, the nickname was good for the small baby. Born in the summer with the sun just beginning to rise and brightening her husband’s and her own mood quite greatly. 

And just like that, the name is chosen and she gives a sure, “Anatoly. Our little Tolyusha, my solnyshko.”

Ivan grins at her, little Anatoly gripping his index finger tightly, and nods. “Anatoly. I love it. You hear that, malenkaya,” Ivan coos down gently to his son. “Your mama picked the best name for you, solnyshko.”

* * *

She finds out that she is pregnant the day her papa dies just three years after Anatoly’s birth and she refuses to tell anyone just yet.

She hopes that it’s a girl, she wants a little girl so badly. But her body doesn’t even hold the baby full term. Ivan leaves a crying Anatoly with his parents, thankful that his and Ekaterina’s mother live so close, and takes his bleeding and crying wife to the nearest hospital. 

She feels lightheaded, dizzy, and every time that she remembers exactly what is going on with her body she breaks down in tears all over again. Ivan holds her close once they’re home and shh-es her, assuring her that it was not her fault. But instead of calming her all it does is make her break down in more tears, just as it had when Vasily had been born. 

It’s another month before she is able to whisper out that she had picked out two names for the child, one a girls name and one a boys; Natalya and Nikolai. 

And soon after the miscarriage Ivan’s mama passes in her sleep.

* * *

Anatoly is five when his mother is pregnant again, he doesn’t really remember her last pregnancy much at all, and is running to his dedushka and babushka and saying happily, “I’m going to be a big brother! I’m going to be a big brother!”

His papa’s papa laughs and holds him up. “Yes you are, Tolya! Are you excited? We can’t tell at all!” He laughs out jokingly.

Anatoly grinned and nodded, giggling as his dedushka set him down. “I’m so excited! Mama wants a little girl,” he stuck his tongue out at his mother and giggled again as she playfully swat at him, “but _ I  _ want a little brother!”

His mama’s mama laughs loudly and shakes her head in amusement. “I don’t think that your mother can handle another boy if he acts just like you, Tolyushka!”

The child just pulled another face and shook his head. “I don’t want a little sister though! She’ll want me to play dolls with her!” 

His papa laughs and wraps his arms around his glowing wife. Ekaterina smiles up at him warmly and leans back against him and watches as their son continues to run between his grandparents, excited about the baby that was due to be born in just six months, right in the middle of February. 

Ivan’s mama doesn’t live long enough to meet her new grandson, dying from pneumonia just six weeks before her daughter in law gives birth. 

She holds her newborn close, sighing in relief as he grips her finger just as Anatoly had. Ivan names the baby Aleksander, after his father, and her little Sashka seems to like the name, blinking up at her and his father. 

Anatoly loves his little brother instantly, that much is very obvious to Ekaterina, and she couldn’t be any happier. 

Aleksander, much like Anatoly, had taken a great deal after his father. Deep brown hair that stuck up in every direction, his father’s eye color but her eye shape, and his father’s nose. 

He was perfect. Her precious synishku. 

Ekaterina is overwhelmed with relief when Aleksander is home and appearing to do well. He sleeps a lot, much like Anatoly had as a child, and her solnyshko is constantly hovering over his new baby brother with wide eyes. She’s so happy with how taken he is with Aleksander and can’t help herself one day when she sees him covering Sashka up with a blanket, she goes over and picks her six year old up and begins raining kisses all over the giggling child.

“Mama is so happy that you love your baby brother so much, solnyshko,” she sighs out, still holding the child. 

Anatoly giggles and hugs his mama back. “I can’t wait until he’s older!” He says quietly so as not to wake the baby. “I’m going to show him how to play in the snow and build the best snowman ever!”

Ekaterina laughs happily. “I cannot wait to watch! I will take so many pictures!”

But she never does. It’s only five and a half weeks after Aleksander’s birth that she goes to check on him in the morning and collapses to the floor with the cold body of the baby cradled in her arms. 

Ivan rushes to take her and their son to the hospital, leaving Anatoly with his grandmother, and the doctor has no answers for them. There appeared to be no cause of death and it seemed sudden. 

Ivan worried how they would tell Anatoly about what had happened to his baby brother and decided that he would be the one to tell him, as he knew his wife would be unable to and he wanted to spare her from having to tell the child. Ekaterina cried and cried even harder as she heard her son cry out, “No! Papa! No! You’re lying! I want Sasha! I want Sasha!"

The next morning Ekaterina cries as she takes every single picture ever taken of Aleksander and places them into a same small tin box that the pictures of her pregnant with Vasily and Nikolai, because she just  _ knows  _ that her third pregnancy would have been a boy even if she  _ wishes _ for a girl, rests in and puts that box into her hope chest. She can’t bear to look at the pictures of her son and isn’t sure if she ever will be able to. 

* * *

Anatoly is nine when his mother has his baby brother four years after Aleksander’s death.

Ekaterina and Ivan had agreed that Anatoly could pick a name for the baby and he had begun jumping in spot and spitting off names, making his parents laugh at his excitement. 

He spout off names from some of his favorite fairytales for a girls name. Maria, from  _ Masha and the Bear _ , to Vasilisa, from  _ The Frog Princess  _ , but had quickly dropped Vasilisa when his mother had frowned and looked ready to burst into tears, to Anastasia, from  _ The Scarlet Flower.  _ His parents had quickly put an end to Anastasia but considered Masha. For a boys name, Ivan, from many of his other favorite fairy tales which had amused his father greatly to the point where he had tickled Anatoly, to Vladimir, to finally Vladislav.

The familiar feeling of contractions hits her as she’s preparing dinner near the beginning of December and she gasps in shock and fear paints her face. The baby is early, two months early in fact, and she screams for Ivan.

“Katyushka? Katyushka!” Ivan shouts as he enters the small kitchen and sees his wife with tears falling down her face. “What’s wrong, zvezda moya?”

Ekaterina continues to cry, more from fear than actual pain, and holds her belly. “The baby! The baby!”

She’s rushed to the hospital, this time Anatoly and her mama coming with them. Her mother and son wait in the waiting room, anxious and worried and hoping that neither Ekaterina or the baby are going to be unwell. 

When the baby is born he is small, much smaller than Aleksander and Anatoly had been, and Ekaterina looks up in worry at her husband and the nurses. She doesn’t want to put her little Vladimir down but at her husband’s gentle touch to her shoulder she lets the nurses take him.

Ivan takes her hand in his and presses kiss upon kiss to it, grinning at her and trying to calm her. “He’s beautiful,” he says softly.

Ekaterina laughs softly and holds his hand tighter. “He doesn’t look a thing like you, Vanyusha.”

And she’s right. Vladimir took after her. Blonde hair, bright blue eyes, her nose. Nothing at all like his brothers had. 

Ivan just laughs softly. “But he looks just like you, Katyushka, zvezda moya.” She laughs softly, looking very sleepy and worn out and he thinks she looks beautiful. A quick kiss to her forehead and a quiet, “Sleep, dorogoi.”

The two months in the hospital go by quickly for Ekaterina. She stays in a near constant state of unconsciousness. When she and Vladimir are finally allowed home she barely allows for anyone else to hold him, too afraid that if she loses sight of him he too will not make it. 

It was only after much insistence from her mother and husband that she carefully handed an eager Anatoly his new baby brother. The nine year old didn’t stop grinning for a moment and carried Vladimir all over their small house.

“And this is my room, Vova! Once you’re older we’ll be sharing and I’m going to teach you how to play in the snow!” Anatoly said warmly, grinning at the blue eyed baby.

That first night, Ekaterina stayed up throughout the night, eyes never leaving the crib that held her still too small son. She prayed and prayed and prayed some more for God to not take her newborn child. Her heart couldn’t take it.

Anatoly took to being a big brother quite well and his parents were very pleased with all of the help that he was. He would help his mama cook and do dishes. He would help his father clean up. He helped feed and change the baby. But after barely even a month he’s filled to the brim with annoyance at his baby brother. 

Unlike Aleksander had been, Vladimir was a fussy baby. He was constantly crying and seeming to throw temper tantrums and Anatoly was completely exasperated with the baby. He had at first tried to coo and coddle Vladimir to be quiet but had only earned a small arm hitting him square in the nose. 

The nine year old had quickly carried Vladimir to his parents and told his mother, “Vova won’t stop crying! He’s so annoying!”

Ekaterina quickly took her red faced son and held him close, humming a lullaby softly. “Come now, Vovochka. Don’t cry. Mama is right here.”

Soon enough Vladimir stopped crying and blinked owlishly at his mother. Anatoly huffed, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. 

Ekaterina looked up and smiled at her mother. Her mama had moved in just a few months before Vladimir’s birth and was a large help to Ekaterina and Ivan. “Mama, do you want to hold Vovochka?”

The elder woman just laughed lightly, only stopping when she broke into a cough. “Ah, no dearest. I’m feeling a bit unwell. I don’t want to give Vovchik anything.”

Ekaterina frowned in worry. “Are you alright, Mama? Do you need me to bring you anything?” Her mother just gave her a reassuring smile and shook her head and Ekaterina reluctantly let the subject fall. 

Her mother falls ill and doesn’t make it to Christmas. 

* * *

If Anatoly had thought that Vladimir as a newborn was awful, he was very unprepared for Vladimir learning to talk or walk.

  
He hadn’t really cared about Vladimir learning to talk. He didn’t really care much for his brother at all actually. Most days he tried to pretend that Vladimir didn’t exist, as terrible as that may have been. But he didn’t care. Vladimir was a brat of a child and Anatoly knew that it was because their mama was terrified of losing him unexpectedly just as she had Aleksander. 

So he chose to ignore Vladimir. Which was much easier said than done as he shared a room with the eleven month old.

It would be completely unnerving when he was doing his homework and Vladimir would be using the crib to keep himself standing so that he could stare at his brother, hair a mess and bright blue pacifier in his mouth.   
  
He would eventually snap and glare at the baby, a glare that would make the other kids at school go and leave him alone but did absolutely nothing to phase his baby brother. “Stop staring at me, Vova!” He would hiss out, eyes narrowed in annoyance.   
  
His aggravation just grew when the baby would just tilt his head slightly and continue staring at his brother and Anatoly swore that the baby even smirked at him!   
  
It was a few days later that Vladimir would say his first word. His parents had been trying to get him to talk; “Say Mama, Vovochka! Say Mama!” “No, say Papa! Volodya, say Papa!” But instead, the baby had just stared straight at Anatoly across the table, Anatoly who was looking down at his plate completely disinterested with Vladimir and his parents at the moment, and stated as clearly as an eleven month old baby could, “To’ya!”   
  
It seemed as if the world froze. No one moved. Their parents stopped and turned to stare between their two sons, curious as to how Anatoly would react. For it was no secret to them that their eldest son usually found the baby more annoying than anything, so they weren’t sure if Anatoly would be excited or annoyed with the blonde. Anatoly dropped his fork, still staring down at his plate of food as his fork clattered from his hand to land on the floor, then slowly he looked up. His brows were furrowed in confusion as he stared at the messy baby.   
  
“What did he say?” The ten year old asked in surprise.   
  
Vladimir gave a bright grin and smacked his pudgy hands down into his potatoes. “To’ya! To’ya! To’ya!” He chanted, food going everywhere as he laughed out Anatoly’s name.   
  
Slowly, the brunette child grinned widely. “He said my name,” he breathed out in surprise before finally laughing out, “Mama! Papa! Vova said my name!”   
  
His excited yell jerked the surprised parents from their stupor and they quickly grinned widely. “Yes, it would appear so!” His mother exclaimed with a laugh, their father giving a light chuckle.   
  
Anatoly was excited. Until Vladimir kept him up most of the night almost every night with giggles and yells of “To’ya!” The baby only laughed louder when Anatoly would groan and pull a pillow over his head. The eleven month old seemed to get satisfaction from annoying and keeping his elder brother up throughout the night.   
  
A few months later and Vladimir is walking unsteadily everywhere that he can and falling down, covering himself in bruises with each fall. Along with the wobbly walking comes Vladimir taking everything that he can reach and stuffing it into his mouth. This includes Anatoly’s prized tin toy soldiers.   
  
It’s nearly dinner time when Anatoly finds Vladimir sitting in the middle of their shared room with a soldier in one hand and another in his mouth. The scream that Vladimir lets out is enough to wake the dead and give their parents a heart attack. The accompanying yell from Anatoly is enough to make them think someone has possibly broken into their house. Or that Anatoly may be wanting to kill his baby brother. Both thoughts are worrisome. Their footsteps thunder loudly as they run to their sons’ bedroom.   
  
“Tolya! Volodya!” Their father shouts, worry lacing his tone, right before he’s throwing the door open in worry. Both adults stop short as they see their eldest carefully picking up his toys and placing them back into their little metal tin that Vladimir had somehow knocked off of Anatoly’s desk.   
  
Anatoly glares down at his brother, the toy that was previously in Vladimir’s mouth held loosely in his own hand. “He took my toys!” He yells out, holding the chewed up soldier to his father. “I hate him!”   
  
“Anatoly!” His mother quickly reprimands him with a stern look as she picks up the still bawling Vladimir. The use of his full name surprised Anatoly enough to where he quickly looks down in shame. He knew that he shouldn’t have said he hated his brother, but he just couldn’t help it. “That is not nice! You don’t ever say that about your brother! Do you understand me?!” She yells, nearly glaring at her eldest as she bounced the baby.   
  
Anatoly gives a sniffle and slowly nods, never once looking up from the floor. He’s not used to his mother actually yelling at him. At least not like this. She's yelled at him for fighting at school, of course. And yelled at him for skipping school. But those yells were never as bad as this one. And he can’t help it when the tears start spilling and he starts hiccuping.   
  
But as soon as he began to cry Vladimir stopped. And let out a happy little laugh and a hiccup. “Mama! Mama! Mama! Want To’ya!”   
  
As the blonde baby reaches out for him, Anatoly burst into even more tears. His toy drops to the floor and he’s quickly hugging his father as he cries. He doesn’t notice as his parents share a look over his head at both of their sons odd behavior.

* * *

It takes much getting used to for Anatoly to be comfortable with sharing a room with Vladimir. Vladimir in the terrible two stages had been a horrible experience as the blonde child screamed loudly and as if he didn’t even need to pause to breathe before screaming again. With their mother, all Vladimir had to do was bat his eyes and let out a small whimper and she would give him whatever it was that he wanted.

It was something that annoyed and drove Ivan and Anatoly to the brink of madness but they just shook their heads and said nothing as Ekaterina spoiled her youngest child to bits. 

Vladimir had rightfully earned the nickname ‘utochka’ from his mother as he was constantly following after her, one hand gripping her long skirts and other holding a toy of some sort. 

Ekaterina had laughed one day as he followed her around and picked him up with a laugh of, “And what are you doing, acting like a little duck? You’re going to make Mama step on you, Vovochka!”

The one year old had let out a giggle and held onto his mother and since that day, the nickname had stuck. Anatoly as her little sunshine and Vladimir as her little duckling. It made Ekaterina grin in pure love and seeing his wife happy had Ivan grinning in pure bliss. 

Vladimir at the age of two had also grown into the annoying habit of slipping from his bed to go to his brother’s instead and every morning that this happened, eleven year old Anatoly would scowl down at the toddler and pick him up and plop him back into his own bed. The habit continued for nearly a full year and every morning Anatoly had to stop himself from smothering his brother with a pillow. 

But eventually Anatoly became used to having Vladimir less than five feet away across the room from him at night. It soon became a comfort to him to hear Vladimir breathing softly at night. 

He comes out of their shared bedroom one afternoon and stops short, brows knit in equal bits confusion and amusement, as he sees his five year old brother brushing the hair of one of their mama’s dolls that she normally kept in her room on her dresser. Three more lied on the floor before him. 

“Mama!” Anatoly called out, worried that Vladimir had seen and taken the treasured dolls. 

Ekaterina ceased doing dishes as she heard her eldest son call for her. “Yes, solnyshko? Are you alright?” She asked at the living room doorway. 

Anatoly gestured to Vladimir who sat cross legged in the middle of the carpet and she let out a small chuckle. “Oh. The dolls? Vovochka wanted to play with them,” she explained, walking over to her youngest and kissing the top of his head. 

Vladimir beamed at her then turned back to face his brother. “I’m playing and this one is going to be Vasilisa and she’s going to fight Baba Yaga from  _ Vasilisa the Wise _ !” The blonde explained, going back to brushing the doll’s hair. 

Ekaterina kisses the top of Vladimir’s head once more. “Just please be careful with Mama’s dolls, alright, utochka?” She asks worriedly staring at her dolls. They had once been a gift to her from her grandparents and they were still in perfect condition and were very precious to her. 

Vladimir nodded, expression completely serious. Or about as serious as a five year old could look. His mama lets out a content little noise before making her way back to the kitchen, determined to have it scrubbed clean and dinner ready by the time her husband was home.

Her eldest son rolled his eyes because _of_ _course_ their mama would let Vladimir play with her dolls. No one else was allowed to touch the little things and he himself as a child had once nearly broken one and received quite the ass beating. But Vladimir, all he had to do was bat his big baby blue eyes and Ekaterina would give her baby the world. 

The blonde nods to himself, deciding that the doll who would play Vasilisa the Wise had hair pretty enough to be the princess. He grins up at his brother and holds up a doll, the one that is to be the prince, to his brother. “Do you want to play with me, Tolik?”

Anatoly pulled a face at the child and, without even thinking, knocked the doll from Vladimir’s hands to the floor. “No, I do not want to play dolls, Vova!” He said in exasperation, eyes rolling. 

Vladimir’s bottom lip quivers as he slowly looks between the doll and his brother and right as he’s about to open his mouth and scream for their mama, Anatoly recognizes the look and quickly sits. 

“Yes! Yes I want to play with you!” Anatoly amends in a rush, eyes wide in worry, and picking up the doll he had knocked to the floor. “Just don’t yell for Mama, you little brat!”

The five year old sticks his tongue out but accepts the almost apology and the game of acting out the story begins. Anatoly  just vaguely had a memory of himself before Aleksander was born saying how he had wanted a brother so that he wouldn’t have to play dolls and now here he was with a baby brother playing with dolls and he wishes that he hadn’t even come out of his bedroom now as Vladimir says he doesn’t like the shoes that the doll who he has named Masha is wearing. 

“What do you think, Tolik? Should she wear the blue shoes or the red shoes?” Vladimir asked, the small shoes in his hands.

Anatoly shrugged. “I don’t know, Vova. Red?”

The five year old pulled a face and shook his head. “No! Red with this dress? Are you crazy?!”

Anatoly rolled his eyes. “Then why are you asking me?” He raises an eyebrow as Vladimir goes back to paying more attention to the dolls than him and thinks to himself that his brother is an odd child indeed. 

* * *

A year later and Vladimir is six and Anatoly fifteen when Vladimir sees Anatoly practicing ballet. And immediately the six year old is demanding that Anatoly teach him how to dance and saying, “I want to do ballet too!”

Anatoly scowls down at the bubbly child and shakes his head. “No! You take everything else that I like away from me, you don’t get to take ballet!”

Vladimir had huffed and threatened to hold his breath until he passed out only for Anatoly to scoff and roll his eyes, hands on his hips, and say, “Alright! Do it!”

The six year old stomped his foot and then stormed out of their bedroom, big crocodile tears budding in his eyes. “Mamochka! Mamochka!” He cried out. 

He didn’t see his elder brother roll his eyes or slump in place slightly. Anatoly already knew how the conversation with their parents would go. Vladimir would cry and just beg for their mama to let him do ballet too and she would take one look at his pouting puppy face, the tears just there for added effect, and she would instantly nod and scoop him into a warm hug promising that of course he could do ballet with his older brother if that’s what he wanted to do.

And just as Anatoly knew it would, the conversation happened just that way. And Vladimir was soon in classes and practicing just as hard as Anatoly did, albeit much more clumsier. It wasn’t as terrible as Anatoly thought it would be, his mother took much more pictures now, but when he came home late from being with friends to see Vladimir lying in his bed and flipping through his magazine about ballet, Anatoly almost throws the child across the room. 

“Vova,” he hissed out.

The child doesn’t even spare him a glance. “Hm?” 

“Get out of my bed.”

Vladimir gave a long sigh but slowly sat up and went to his bed, Anatoly’s magazine still in hand.

Anatoly pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Vova. Give me my magazine.”

“But I like looking at the pictures! They’re so pretty!” The child cried back, holding the magazine closer to his chest. 

The elder just rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes. The girls are pretty. Now give me back my magazine!”

The blonde looks at his brother in surprise, grip loosening on the magazine enough for Anatoly to snatch it back without fear of tearing it. “Well, I guess they’re pretty too. But I meant Baryshnikov and the other boys.”

Vladimir snatched the magazine back and flipped it open to show a picture of Baryshnikov mid leap and happily showed it to his brother. “See?! He’s so pretty!”

Anatoly slowly looked between the picture and his brother before nodding. “Well, yes, Baryshnikov is pretty,” Anatoly said almost timidly, a light blush warming his cheeks. He took the magazine back and shook his head, both at his brother and his own thoughts. “Go to bed Vova.”

Anatoly tried to ignore the fact that he began a small crush on Mikhail Baryshnikov after realizing that his brother was right; Baryshnikov was quite pretty to look at indeed. And not just when he danced but also he just had a nice face.

While Vladimir was a child, maybe a bit too affectionate, no one really payed him any mind when he would grin at the other boys or that one time he had wandered off in the mall and been found grabbing a mannequin's backside, Anatoly knew that it would be at the very least looked down upon if he were to be caught openly staring at other boys. 

Baryshnikov may have been a quick crush for Anatoly, but once the teenager not only learns about but actually  _ meets  _ the Winter Soldier, Baryshnikov goes back to being just an idol and Anatoly collects as much information as he can about the Winter Soldier. 

It had been an accident, meeting the man. Really, it was a ghost story, the Winter Soldier, that is. A story told by parents to children that misbehaved; "You wouldn't want for Zimnii Soldát to come and get you, would you? He'll steal you away quicker than Tili Tili Bom."   
  
Anatoly himself had been told about the Winter Soldier many a time by his mama. He was an unruly child, downright horrible at times. Though, he did like to imagine he'd grown out of being too bratty.   
  
But to him, the Winter Soldier is nothing but a fairytale of sorts, a guardian angel for Russia in a way; he did what he did for the greater good of Mother Russia. He didn't exist, not really anyway. But it was fun to imagine. And at first, he doesn't fall in love with the soldier but really the lore of him. The idea. The myths that surround the man with a metal arm like a cloud.    
  
The Winter Soldier and the Black Widow were nothing but stories, fables really, told by exasperated mothers to misbehaving children in an attempt to keep them in line. The stories had been around for a very long time, since the late forties maybe even early fifties. No one knew of how the stories had come up but they had been around for so long that now they were just accepted by the people.    
  
It's close to spring when Anatoly overhears some of his friends talking about the Winter Soldier and the brunette can't help but to laugh and rolls his eyes in amusement.   
  
"Grisha, you cannot honestly believe that the Winter Soldier is real," Mikhail says with a loud laugh. He nudges Anatoly's shoulder with his own and laughs again. "Mitya, Tolya! Grisha thinks that the Winter Soldier is out there in the woods!" He says patronizingly.   
  
Anatoly and Dmitry snicker softly before Anatoly is giving Grigori a pitying look. The other boy looks close to tears, face red in annoyance mixed with embarrassment as Mikhail laughs at him. Mikhail always did have a habit of being a snob and laughing at his friends, belittling them to the point where they didn't even want to be around him anymore. And yet Grigori, Anatoly, and Dmitry stayed.   
  
Grigori huffed and glared at Mikhail. "He's out there! I saw the metal arm myself," he breathes out, eyes wide in awe and tone breathless but still so full of amazement. "If you don't believe me why don't you go out to the woods, Misha?"   
  
When the blonde boy rolled his eyes and nodded, Grigori crossed his arms over his chest before adding, "Tonight."    
  
Mikhail's confidence noticeably falls and Grigory can't hide his smirk. While Anatoly and Dimitri snicker once more only to hide their amusement under obviously fake coughs when Mikhail casts annoyed glances at them.   
  
"I can't just go and camp out in the woods at night, Grisha. My mama would beat my ass if I snuck out and she would not let me camp in the woods," Mikhail scoffs out, once more trying to sound confident.    
  
But all Grigori does is shrug and state a simple, "If you're too scared then don't go. But don't call me a liar."   
  
As Mikhail narrows his eyes in annoyance Dimitri rolls his eyes in amusement at his two friends. Anatoly scoffs but says without thinking, "I'll do it."

The other three boys pause and stare at Anatoly in surprise though the shock quickly wears off and Mikhail shrugs.

"Fine. Tolya is going to hunt for the Winter Soldier for you, Grisha."

Hours later and Anatoly is trying to be quieter than a mouse as he opens the window in his and Vladimir's room. He has one leg out when Vladimir's voice groggily asks, "Tolik, where're you going?"

"Nowhere! Just go back to sleep!" The sixteen year old hisses back, hoping beyond hope that his brother will do as told for once and go back to sleep.

His hopes are destroyed though as the small child seems fully awake, gleeful as he is now aware that his brother is trying to sneak out and he can use this as blackmail for the future.

"Mama won't like you sneaking out, big brother," he drawls out, arms crossing and a smirk on his smug face. 

Anatoly just scowls at him, knowing full well that Vladimir will go tell their mother unless Anatoly can come up with a reason on just why he shouldn't. It doesn't take Anatoly long to come up with a reason; the way to get Vladimir to do anything really was to go through his stomach. "If you go back to sleep and pretend you saw nothing, I will give you my dessert for the next week!"

And just as Anatoly was sure that he would, the child instantly perked up and let out an appreciative hum before nodding his head. "I am having a very strange dream." 

Anatoly just gave a nod, pleased that it was only the dessert that Vladimir wanted and not his hard earned allowance. "Yes, yes you are."

Vladimir fell back against his pillows and yawned loudly. "G'night, Tolik."

The teenager waits a few moments more, just until he can hear his brother snoring softly, then rolls his eyes. "Good night, Vova," he whispers before stepping out into the cold. He tugs the window closed, only keeping it cracked just enough that he will be able to reopen it later, and he hopes that the cold doesn't seep into the bedroom and make Vladimir sick; a sick younger brother usually meant that Anatoly would be kept awake with the child complaining about not being allowed to do anything before he was throwing his meals back up.

Anatoly begins the walk to the woods. It doesn't take too long but he shivers as a breeze whisks by, chilling him just enough that he's annoyed. It's been less than ten minutes and already he is hating that he had offered to do this. 

Soon enough he's actually in the woods, being careful to not trip in the dark or make too much noise. He doesn't actually believe that the Winter Soldier is out here, there's just no way that a fable is actually real. So he gives himself an hour and a half, maybe two if he's particularly bored or more awake, before he'll go back home. 

Time creeps by slowly it feels and he's beginning to wish he'd brought gloves as, while it may be late March it is still cold. He's so lost in thought that he doesn't notice a particularly large pile of melted slush until he's slipping in it and crashing to the ground with a large yell. 

He hisses in pain as he rolls to sit on his butt instead of lying face first on the ground and he rubs at his shin. "Stupid stupid stupid," he mutters to himself, mentally calling this whole idea stupid, himself stupid, and the weather stupid.

He doesn't hear anyone coming over to him or notice that he’s no longer alone until a gloved hand is in front of his face. 

"Need help, kid?" A deep voice asks, jerking Anatoly back to the real world. 

Anatoly stares at the offered hand then up at the man. He's not bad looking, could probably use a shave and some sleep if the dark circles under his eyes were any indication, before taking hold of the hand. "Thank you."

The man just shrugs, slipping his hand into his pocket. "You're welcome. What are you doing out here anyway?" 

Anatoly rolls his eyes as he remembers just why he is out in the woods and feeling as though he may just freeze to death. "I'm looking for the Winter Soldier," he sneers out, annoyed that he's confessing this to an adult, even if said adult doesn't look that much older than he himself is.

The man jerks slightly, eyebrow raising and eyes narrowing. "Why?"

Anatoly shrugs, not noticing that the man is tensed now and gripping a knife that he had hidden in his pocket.

"I'm proving to a friend that the Winter Soldier isn't real. You haven't happened to see him around here, have you?" Anatoly asked sarcastically, rolling his eyes once more.

The man eases even if only slightly and he gives a jerky shake of the head.

"No. Of course not. The Winter Soldier is a ghost story, kid." He says right before a woman slides out of the shadows to stand beside him. 

She nods her head slightly at Anatoly and loops her arm through the man's right arm. "Yasha, we need to go," she breathes out softly, eyes moving quickly to take in anything that may be out of place, nodding her head further away from the city. 

He, Yasha,  _ 'Yakov _ ,' Anatoly's mind automatically corrects, nods and turns to follow her lead. "See you around, kid."

An amused scoff laugh from the woman and the man smirked slightly at her.

Anatoly watches the couple, for surely that is what they must be. They look at each other much like how his parents look at each other; as if the other had hung up the stars just for them. As if the other were the only thing keeping them going throughout the days.

He wonders what they're running from but decides that it doesn't concern him and makes to turn away only to freeze as he watches the man raise his left arm, coat sleeve raising to show his wrist. 

A wrist that glints in the moonlight, an obvious sign of light bouncing off of metal. The woman raises her hands to fix her hat, tucking a few strands that are slipping free back into it. But not before Anatoly catches sight of the the darker than blood red color.

_ 'The Black Widow. The Winter Soldier!'  _ Anatoly thinks to himself, eyes wide as he watches their retreating figures. 

He quietly steps forward, then quicker, and he begins following them. 

_ 'It can't really be them. Can it? They're not real, just myths!'  _ He thinks, making sure to keep a few yards of distance between himself and them.  _ 'What are they even doing out here? Is this really happening?!'  _

A pinch to the back of his hand and he winces just a bit at the sharp pain. 

_ 'Yes. Real. It's them. The Winter Soldier. The Black Widow. They're real.' _

Anatoly is far enough away from the woman and man that he doesn't hear as she breathes out, "Do you think he realizes that he's thinking out loud?"

The man just shrugs slightly and breathes back, "Who cares, we need to get rid of him." She nods and lets go of his arm. 

Anatoly is so lost in thought that he doesn't realize that the couple in front of him are slowing and that he's getting closer to them until he nearly collides into them both. But he doesn't get a chance to even attempt to stutter out an apology as the Black Widow hits him really hard on the side of the head. 

He lets out a startled yelp and tries to shake away the mild case of dizziness he just received and the couple of Soviet assassins take this as their queue to leave him in the muddy slush of melting snow in the middle of the woods. 

He just barely hears, "Natalia Romanova, I think I love you," said in a voice akin to that of a starstruck lover.

And he just barely hears back her laughed out response of, "Well I should hope so, Yasha. Considering how far we've gotten."

Anatoly scowls and blinks, wincing at the headache he now has. ' _ The Black Widow is a bitch,'  _ he finds himself thinking to himself. He picks himself up from the ground and begins the trek back home, hoping beyond hope that his mother is still asleep. 

He's not fully processed what exactly he's just witnessed. He knows he saw the Winter Soldier and Black Widow, now knows the Widow's name even, but it still doesn't feel real. Even as he's sneaking back into his and Vladimir's bedroom and slipping back into his bed, boots being kicked under the bed. 

It's right as he's beginning to fall back asleep that he realizes what all just happened and the moment he does he jerks back awake and moves quickly across the room to shake Vladimir awake. 

"Vova! Vova, wake up!" He says, awe and pure disbelief dripping from his tone as he sits on his younger brother.

Vladimir just scowls and tries to pull his pillow over his head with one hand while he uses the other to shove at his brother. "No, Tolik, go away! I want to sleep." 

"Vova! I saw the Winter Soldier! I saw the Black Widow! They're real!"

The child doesn't even care, he just wants to sleep and he grumbles out just as much. So with a dejected sigh, Anatoly moves off of his brother and back to his bed where he lies on his back and stares up at the ceiling in disbelief.

When he finally begins to fall asleep all he can imagine is the Winter Soldier's face and he wakes the next morning with a racing heart and needing to wash his pants much to his embarrassment. 

* * *

As time moves on Anatoly grows closer to his younger brother. He still finds him to be quite bratty but that aside, Vladimir is a good child. He enjoys school, doesn’t get into as many fights as Anatoly did. It definitely earned him brownie points from their mother as Vladimir appeared to be much more behaved. In most aspects.

In actuality he was actually quite good making their mother believe that he was the perfect child. He could talk her into giving him more desserts and he would share with Anatoly. He could get his bedtime extended so that he could talk to Anatoly. Anatoly who would just twitch slightly as he struggled to ignore the child and do his homework. 

In return for making him struggle with homework, Anatoly forced Vladimir to sit through his Winter Soldier Appreciation club. A club that he ran and the only two members were Anatoly himself and Vladimir. 

Anatoly’s small crush had grown drastically over the year and he had hunted down any type and all of the information that he could on him; any newspaper clippings he could find, whispers on the streets, any and everything. He didn’t really realize that he had a celebrity crush of sorts, he just thought the Winter Soldier was amazing. And pretty nice to look at. And if the opportunity ever arose, he would very gladly kiss the man. 

These were all things that he was telling Vladimir at that very moment actually while holding up various news articles. “And his name is James Barnes, Vova!”

Vladimir didn’t even react, just continued to lie on his back in his bed and stare up at the ceiling and prayed internally for death. 

“The Black Widow,” Vladimir perks up just slightly, which Anatoly doesn’t notice, “she called him Yasha! The Winter Soldier, Yakov-”

Vladimir tunes his brother out once more and wonders if he’ll die if he were to throw himself out the window. He ends up sighing, not liking the idea but really wanting to escape his brother who is still talking about how ‘Yakov Barnes’ looks and how he wants to give him a better place to stay.

“Do you think he would like my bed, Vova?” 

Vladimir raises an eyebrow but otherwise doesn’t even react. He doesn't understand what his brother is implying nor does he care.

Anatoly continued speaking with a bright grin, as though he hadn’t asked his seven year old brother an awkward question. “And in 1979-”

The child let out a loud groan, effectively cutting his brother off mid sentence, and tugged his pillow over his face. “Brother! Stop! I don’t care! Please, I beg of you! Let me die!”

The elder Russian frowned. “But I’m not done with-”

Vladimir groans again and pulls the pillow tighter on his face in an attempt to cut off his air supply. 

“I haven’t even gotten to the best parts!” Anatoly whined, though he refused to call it a whine, back as he held up another article. “This is one about the Stark family in Am-”

“I don’t care!” Vladimir yelled back and throwing his pillow at the brunette. “Tolik, God damn you!” 

Anatoly’s jaw dropped in surprise and Vladimir quickly capped both hands over his mouth, eyes wide and darting everywhere as if he expected for their mama to come in and begin lecturing.

It was no secret that Vladimir was far more religious than his brother thanks to their mother and so to hear him yell ‘god dam’ was quite the shock. To the both of them. And after a few more moments of tense silence Anatoly lets out a very loud and amused laugh. 

Vladimir watches with wide eyes for a few moments but quickly grows annoyed and throws a pillow at his elder brother’s face. 

* * *

Vladimir is seven still and Anatoly sixteen when their father loses his job. Their mama and papa struggle to continue providing for their sons but just a few weeks later Ivan is walking his sons to school and while Vladimir sees nothing out of the ordinary, Anatoly is instantly on edge.

Anatoly is taken to school first and Ivan hugs his eldest son tightly for a few moments too long. “What’s wrong, Papa?” Anatoly asks quietly.

But Ivan just shakes his head and forces a grin as he claps his son on the shoulder. “Nothing, Tolya, solnyshko.” He falls silent and it’s obvious to even Vladimir that their father is nervous. Ivan slowly places his hands on his son’s shoulders and gives Anatoly a look. “Tolya, I need you to promise me something,” he says just a bit too quietly so that Vladimir can’t overhear him. 

Anatoly nods, confused and worried but not wanting to show it.

“Take good care of your mama. Help her when she needs it. Take very good care of your brother and don’t let anything bad happen to him,” Ivan almost begs. His son who is so much like a mirror image of himself nods, brows furrowed in confusion. “Promise me?”

“I promise?” It sounds more like a question than the simple statement that he's trying so hard for.

Ivan accepts it anyway and nods, not really happy but at the very least content. He reaches over for Vladimir’s hand and holds it tightly. “Come on then, Vova. You need to get to school.” He laughs, an almost real laugh, when Vladimir blows a raspberry at him. 

Anatoly doesn’t worry too much after his father and brother leave. He figures his papa is just stressed, looking for a new job and worried about their financial situation. But when he comes home from school to find his mama sitting at the kitchen table crying he instantly knows something is seriously wrong. 

“Mama? Where’s Papa?” He asks, only to wince when she chokes on a sob.

He doesn’t need for her to tell him that his father isn’t ever coming home. He just doesn’t know if he left them because of debt or because he killed himself.


End file.
